


Maybe Not Tonight

by aliveanddrunkonsunlight



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-22 10:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16595900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliveanddrunkonsunlight/pseuds/aliveanddrunkonsunlight
Summary: TGF S1 AU. What if Diane and Kurt divorced?There’s no coherent thought in the moment. It’s the constant replaying of it in her head later which enables her to catalogue all the little things. The solid sureness of the kiss. The warmth of his hand on the back of her neck, fingertips slipping into her hair. The friction of his five o’clock shadow against her cheek making her press into him further. The low sound escaping his throat.





	1. Chapter 1

_Let go_ , he whispers into her ear.

It was a tacit agreement. Falling into bed together, after signing their divorce papers and too much scotch, seemed almost commonplace. They weren’t doing anything wrong. They simply weren’t husband and wife anymore. It was a parting shot, a remembrance of the good times.

But now, as Kurt looks up at her, his brown eyes unreadable in the darkness of her bedroom, she’s afraid they’ve tipped over some unseen edge.

*

**Nine months earlier**

_I don’t want the door to close completely._

_It is closed between us._

_Then divorce me, but I won’t do it!_

She knew he would be stubborn about it, but she hadn’t expected his reasoning to be them. Until he showed up on her doorstep two nights ago, they hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year. There was always going to be a familiarity between them, but what they had before was beyond salvaging, at least in her mind.

Not in his.

She sighs. “Kurt?” He turns back. “Will you at least consider it, for my sake?”

“I-”

Maybe it’s unfair, knowing how he feels. Before he can repeat his reasoning, she cuts in with: “It’s a financial split, that’s all.”

He’s quiet, head tucked to his chest. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” But he’s already gone.

In the midst of starting at Boseman Reddick, she notices a missed call from him. Knowing she’s unable to get through her day without an interruption, she waits to return until she gets home. He picks up on the first ring. “Hey.”

“Hi.” It’s so quiet on his end she begins to wonder if she simply imagined his missed call and he’s the one waiting for her to explain why she called.

Finally, he says, “I talked to my lawyer today.”

“You have a lawyer?”

“I thought my previous counsel might be a little biased.” Diane chuckles and there’s a surge of fondness for him. They could always make each other laugh. “Between him and my accountant, they pretty much told me I’m facing potential financial ruin unless we…”

He can’t bring himself to say it. “Divorce,” she finishes for him, her voice gentle.

“Yeah.” Kurt lets out a resigned sigh. “For the record, I don’t want to do this. I’m only agreeing to it under duress.”

“I’m sorry.” She doesn’t know why she says it. Sorry they didn’t try harder to make their marriage work, sorry she can’t forgive him, sorry her finances landed them in this position.

“It’s not your fault.” Normally she might debate him on that point, but she’s tired.

“Is your lawyer going to draw up the papers or I can get someone at the firm to do it?”

“My guy can do it.” If he expects her to object, she doesn’t. Diane realizes easy it would be for some first year associate in family law to come across a name partner’s divorce papers and start spreading rumors. Since she’s new at the firm, she would like to keep her private life private for as long as possible.

“Okay,” she agrees. “Thank you. I mean that.”

“I know,” he replies and she can tell from his voice he truly does. “I’ll talk to ya.”

“Bye, Kurt.”

 

**That Night**

She’s barely eaten anything all day, not since waking up to Kurt’s text. It’s probably bad form to sign divorce papers over a giant pizza, but it’s all she really wants right now. That and a large scotch. Knowing Kurt will feel the same on the drink, she pulls down two tumblers and puts a bottle of white in the fridge, in case she needs reinforcements.

At Lockhart Gardner, she’d left most of the divorce cases in the capable hands of David Lee, but having seen the process at work, she’s surprised at how quickly her own had come through. Mostly due to Kurt, who despite his early protests, made the road a smooth one. It was an uncontested divorce, they’d already been separated for the six months required by law, and they had no mutual property to split. Despite her current financial situation, Diane turned down spousal support, not feeling right about taking money from a man who hadn’t wanted to divorce her.

The scotch makes her lips tingle and burn. A familiar knock at the door, she opens it to see Kurt holding a pizza. “Oh my god,” she lets him in, laughing. “You read my mind.”

“And you read mine.” He sets the pizza down, nodding towards the scotch. She passes him the other glass and goes searching for paper plates for the pizza.

“Do you want to do this now?” he calls. “Or should we not drip pizza grease on them?”

“I think we should rip the band aid off,” she tosses back over her shoulder and then realizes it probably sounded unfeeling. She stops rifling through her cabinets and turns to look at him. His hand is already sneaking into the pizza box, but he doesn’t look hurt. “Sorry if that was-”

“No,” he interrupts her. “You’re right.” Kurt’s only taken two bites of a slice, but he’s already got a crumb stuck in the corner of his mustache.

She smiles and passes him a paper towel. “Right here,” she tells him, pointing to the same spot on herself. Kurt reaches for the wrong side. “Other side,” she giggles, but he still misses it. “Come here.” Diane steps towards him and delicately brushes her thumb over the offending corner of his mustache. He stills under her touch. “There,” she steps back and her eyes flick up to meet his. Noticing how he’s looking at her, there’s a warm rush in her stomach.

They don’t sign the papers right away, instead preferring to eat pizza standing up and talking for the first time in months. It’s nice. Comfortable. Diane almost forgets what they’re there to do until Kurt swills the last of the scotch in his glass and announces, “Okay, we should do this.”

He slides the navy blue folder towards them and opens it to reveal the document. The familiar header, _In the Circuit Court of Cook County, Illinois_. Seeing their names isn’t as easy. Immediately, she skims through the familiar language, already flipping to the next page until she hears him. “Wait. Shouldn’t we read this?”

Her hand shaking, it falls back to her side. “I can’t.” She shakes her head, taking a step back.

Kurt’s face clouds with confusion. “What do you mean? You can’t?” The hope hovers there in his eyes.

She shakes her head again. “I can’t-” Her voice hitches. “I can’t read it.” It’s ridiculous. She already knows what it says, but she can’t bring herself to read the words. The finality.

He deflates, but she doesn’t even have time to react, because he’s steering her towards the couch. “You should sit. I’ll get you a glass of water.” His hand lingers on her shoulder for a moment or is she imagining it? Kurt hands her the water, sitting gingerly next to her.

She takes a slow sip. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, finally feeling like she can breathe again.

“Diane, you don’t need to apologize.” There’s the look again, this time understanding with a tiny bit of hope mixed in. “I know what everyone’s said about my financial situation, but there’s no rush. We-”

“No,” she says quickly, needing to cut off whatever his next thought was going to be. “I know. I appreciate it, but we do need to.” She doesn’t feel as sure as she sounds, but what she said the first time she asked him for a divorce remains true. She can’t be responsible for Kurt going broke.

His eyes search hers for a long time. Diane’s resolve starts to weaken as sudden, unbidden thoughts pop into her mind. Wanting to touch his arm, his cheek, to feel his lips on hers again. “Are you sure?”

She nods, rising suddenly, half to get away from the temptation of being so close to him and half because she needs another drink.

After bringing the scotch and papers over to the coffee table, Diane flips to the last page and signs her name at the bottom, then drops the pen and lifts the glass to her lips, welcoming the burn of alcohol in her throat. She nudges Kurt’s leg with her foot. “Your turn.” His gaze holds hers a little too long before clenching his jaw and scrawling his name. She hands him a fresh glass. “Congratulations?” The question at the end of her sincere condolences makes them both break into laughter.

It’s surreal from there. They swap stories, memories of their relationship, eulogizing their marriage, until the pizza is gone and the scotch half drunk. Coming down from another story, Diane leans her head against the back of the couch. “We’re lucky,” she tells him, her words coming out in a tumble. “We could hate each other.”

“Nope,” he drawls, shaking his head. “That’s the one thing I’m sure about. I could never hate you.” His voice dips low, sending a shiver through her body and when she meets his dark eyes, she can’t breathe. Her memory is foggy, but is sure she doesn’t move, sure he’s the one who touches her first, his fingers drawing idle circles on her arm, the two of them not talking, sitting together in the flush of alcohol, his fingertips warm on her skin.

She might say his name. Quiet, hushed, reverent. Maybe she only thinks it, but his fingers stop circling, press into her arm, tugging her gently towards him, breath on her cheek, eyes flicking up the second before his mouth meets hers.

There’s no coherent thought in the moment. It’s the constant replaying of it in her head later which enables her to catalogue all the little things. The solid sureness of the kiss. The warmth of his hand on the back of her neck, fingertips slipping into her hair. The friction of his five o’clock shadow against her cheek making her press into him further. The low sound escaping his throat.

Diane starts to shift, moving further down on the couch so she can pull him on top of her, but breaking the kiss feels like breaking a spell. It continues, until the two of them have to separate, heady and breathless. Kurt rests his forehead against hers, neither of them in a hurry. “I-” _Please,_ she thinks. _Don’t apologize._

“No,” she manages, tugging on the front of his shirt, the two of them shifting position. Finally, the weight of his body on hers. She has to bite her lip, count to ten, force herself to take a shaky breath. He notices anyway. Stills, finds her eyes. His gaze will be her undoing.

It’s been so long. So long since she last lay with her husband this way. It nearly brings her to tears. He brushes his thumb along her lower lip, her tongue tracing after him. His teeth nipping, moving away, before his lips return. She sighs into his mouth, muscles startling once again as his hand grips her hip. Familiar, needy, possessive.

They undress each other, neither of them speaking about the reasons they shouldn’t do this, instead taking each other’s breaths, sighs, gasps, and moans as reasons why they should.

Diane hasn’t forgotten, but hadn’t wanted to remember the effect his hands had on her. He’s agonizingly slow, her body pulsing with warmth, the sensation building inside her, so frustratingly close, she wants to scream. Now, right now. A slight of his fingers, the faintest pressure. She gives herself over, legs clutching against him, her fingers in his hair, sounds tumbling from her lips. The smirk playing across his mouth, kissing her, before he drops lower, swinging legs over his shoulders, his tongue against her clit and _oh god oh god ohgod oh_.

They’ve always been good at this, she thinks, mind flashing to their first date. It never feels wrong. At least not until morning. Hands trace along his shoulders, needing him. Wanting. Having.

*

Diane was telling him something important. Her lips are moving, but there’s only brass and strings. “What?”

He blinks rapidly, his own voice waking him. Squints against the light, head pounding, body full of lead. Where the hell is he? He peeks one eye open, immediately shutting it when he recognizes the painting on the wall. Oh god, they hadn’t.

Flashes of the night before. Scotch. Pizza. Diane kissing him. His hands on her skin. Divorced. They were divorced. _Not officially_ , his mind echoes back.

He keeps his eyes closed, his other senses picking up on his surroundings. The weight of her next to him in bed, the smell of her sheets, one second light and citrusy, the next sickeningly laced with booze and grease. His stomach churns and he takes a deep breath.

Heart pounding. Kurt doesn’t know how he can possibly extricate himself from the situation. Doesn’t know how either of them can.

Diane stirs beside him, then stills, but he can hear her breathing, shallow and soft, not as deep as before and knows she’s awake. “Shit,” she whispers. His stomach sinks and the next moment, hates himself for it. When it comes to them, he doesn’t know how he has any hope left, but whatever there was dissipates upon hearing that one single word.

He doesn’t open his eyes until he hears her get up, the water running in the bathroom. Sitting up quickly, he gathers his clothes, starts dressing. Diane opens the bathroom door a minute later, not saying anything, simply leaning against the doorframe, watching him. “I know,” he finds himself saying, voice trembling with irritation and anger. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Kurt, I...” His back tenses, but he looks over at her.

She draws her robe a little tighter around her, opening her mouth to say something, but then her face falls uncertain. She shakes her head instead, eyes sad. “Yeah,” he says, resigned, slow. “Yeah.” Again, mostly to himself. He makes his way downstairs, finding that damn folder on the coffee table where they’d left it. Pauses in the entryway, hope rising in his chest, thinking she’ll call for him, come down the stairs. Stalks out, shutting the door forcefully behind him. _Goddamnit._

*

She feels terrible. Thinks about calling him, texting, emailing, something. But she has no idea what to say. That she’s sorry for sleeping with him? Because she’s not sorry. Not about that. Sorry about what they did to each other, to their marriage? Yes.

A copy of their signed divorce papers shows up on her doorstep a few weeks later. She wants to drink her weight in vodka, do something reckless. Instead, she thinks of her goddaughter, who has looked miserable for weeks and schedules a spa day for the two of them. (They haven’t taken away her credit cards yet.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diane takes off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose. She can’t do this again, can’t have her personal life dragged out in court.

**Three Months After That Night**

She thought it would be the last time. She’s getting better at forgetting him. Finds a new routine. Sleeps in the middle of the bed, drinks all the coffee in the mornings, and stays at the office as late as she wants. But sometimes she passes a man on the street who uses the same shampoo or the same aftershave as her ex-husband and she has to stop, hand clutching the nearest sturdy surface for a moment before she can continue. 

And then, a few months into her new life, she’s walking past Julius’ office, where he’s meeting with Lucca and a man with a head of silvery gray hair. She freezes, unable to absorb the shock, much less react. Doing a double take, she notices Lucca giving her a strange look, but before Kurt can turn around, Diane is already out of sight. 

She tries to compose herself, knowing it’s inevitable he’ll show up at her door. A soft knock and there he is, walking in behind Marissa, who has a smirk on her face. He’s wearing a dark gray blazer with a plaid shirt and jeans. She smiles, in spite of herself. He’s let his facial hair grow out a little, the shadow of a beard on his cheeks. “Uh, hello.” 

“Hey.” He says softly, stopping a few feet from her desk and slipping his hands into his pockets. “Sorry to bother you, but I saw you walk by and I thought I should...” 

She waits for him to finish whatever he wanted to say, but as usual, he’s grown quiet. Diane settles back behind her desk. Kurt doesn’t sit. “You’re here about a case?” 

He frowns. “Julius didn’t tell you…?” 

“Ah, no.”  

“Oh.” Does he sound disappointed? “It’s okay, isn’t it?” 

“That you’re working on a case for Julius? Yes, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I wasn’t sure…” He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze falling to the carpet. “I was gonna call, but we haven’t really been-” 

“No, we haven’t,” she replies quickly, her voice maybe too firm. 

“Okay, well, I should probably.” He gestures behind him to the door and turns to go.  

She sighs. “Kurt.” He pivots back to her quickly. “We’re both adults. I don’t--I shouldn’t be the reason you feel like you can’t work on cases for the firm.” 

“I know. I was only asking to be polite.” She looks up in surprise, but quickly notices the slight smirk underneath his mustache. 

His unexpected response makes her laugh. “Come say hello the next time you’re in the office.” 

He nods at her, then pauses at the door. “You look good.” This time when her gaze connects with his, there’s a familiar tingle in her body.

“So do you,” she manages to murmur, not even sure if Kurt hears. Pivoting her chair, she watches him walk down the hall towards the elevators. 

*

After lunch, Lucca drops by her office. “I wanted to apologize. I thought you knew.”

“It’s fine.” She dismisses it with a wave of her hand, even though she hasn’t had enough time to discern how she feels about it. The younger woman grimaces. “It’s really okay,” Diane tells her sincerely. 

“No, it’s not that.” Lucca pauses, tilting her head to the side. “Adrian wants you on the case.” 

“Oh.”  _ Of fucking course _ . “Does he...he doesn’t know?”

“I didn’t feel it was my place to tell him.” After Lucca leaves, she finds Adrian in his office.

“Diane!” He looks up, delighted. 

“Do you have a minute?” 

“Sure, come in.”

She sits down across from him. “You want me on Julius’ case? Can I ask why?”

“Yes. I heard you’re familiar with the ballistics expert, Kurt McVeigh.”  _ Familiar with him _ . Yes, you could certainly say that. While she may be physically present, images from that night float across her mind, distracting her, and she realizes she hasn’t been listening to a word Adrian says until she hears her name. “Diane?” 

“Yes?” 

“You’re familiar with his work?” 

“Yes.” It’s not a lie. 

“We thought he might be more comfortable with this case if he worked with someone he knows.” 

She should laugh over the absurdity of the whole situation, but she keeps thinking about the last morning they woke up together, the hurt on Kurt’s face, and the anger in his voice. “Adrian. I’m happy to do what I can to help, but you should know that Mr. McVeigh-” It sounds weird. She tries again. “ _ Kurt _ and I...well, we were married.”

His booming laugh surprises her. “I’m sorry,” he says, trying to breathe between continued bursts of laughter. “I know it’s not funny, but it’s certainly not what I expected.”

She was used to receiving similar reactions when they were married. It did not line up with people’s vision of her, being married to a ballistics expert, much less a Sarah Palin-supporting conservative. But their time apart has left her less practiced in the face of Adrian’s disbelief. She doesn’t know what to say, settles on a chuckle. “Yes, well…”

“But seriously, I can understand the complications. I used to be married. Actually,” he laughs to himself. “I was married to my partner’s daughter. I don’t know if you’ve ever met Liz.” 

“Liz Lawrence? Oh my goodness, yes. My former partner was at Georgetown with her.” The mention of Will always makes her sit up a little straighter, remembering he’s one of the reasons why she’s still doing this.

“God, this world,” Adrian says, shaking his head. “Throw a pebble and it’ll hit someone you know. Will was a good lawyer.” 

“Yes, he was.” 

“Anyway, I understand if your history prevents you from working with Mr. McVeigh.”

“I’m not sure,” she answers honestly. “But we are on speaking terms, so I’ll ask.” She doesn’t mention how it took them three months to get there. 

Calling Kurt, she hopes he doesn’t pick up, as she’s composed a nice little message in her head. The phone rings and rings. “Hey.” He answers just as she was expecting it to go to voicemail.

“Hey.” Her voice instinctively softens when she hears his voice and she mentally chides herself for it. “Um, so, Adrian wants me to join the case you’re working on.” 

“Oh.” But he’s chuckling. 

“He wanted to know if we can work together. Amicably.” 

“It’s up to you.” Of course he would put this on her to decide. 

“No, no. You were doing this before I was involved.” 

“You know my rules. As long as the evidence doesn’t prove your client guilty, I’ll stay on the case.” 

She contemplates whether they can do this. Somehow knowing she will have Lucca or Julius as a cushion makes it more feasible. “Okay. Then it’s settled.” 

“We were always good at working together.” More often it ended up in a fight, Diane thinks, but something in his tone makes her bite back her response. 

“Yeah.” She tries to sound jovial. “I’ll see you at the office.” 

*

As she drives out to Kurt’s, she curses Lucca for not being able to join her today. She got pulled onto Maia’s case at the last minute, and while Diane couldn’t very well blame Lucca for helping her goddaughter, she was anxious about being alone with Kurt for the first time since they’d signed their divorce papers.  _ Since you slept together. _

Kurt doesn’t seem to feel any of the same trepidation, but is momentarily confused when he opens the door and sees Diane flying solo. “Where’s Lucca?” 

“She’s doing a favor for Maia, so it’s just me today.” If this surprises him, he doesn’t show it, letting Diane inside. “Here.” He points at a computer screen with his findings. She remembers his routine well. Explaining the results and then showing exactly how he got them. Sure enough, a moment later, he hands her a pair of earmuffs. In the past, she didn’t always know what questions to ask (or asked too many), but this time she comprehends every word. “Was this an easy case? Because I’m understanding this.” 

He chuckles. “You were always good at understanding it. You ask the right questions. And no, it wasn’t any easier than most of my cases.” Kurt gestures to the mannequin he’s using for his demonstration. “You want to take a shot?” 

“What?” 

He unloads the gun and offers it to her. “When’s the last time you went shooting?” 

She doesn’t remember, but it was here, on the farm. Target practice. “I don’t know, but I don’t think I should-” 

“Okay.” She watches him unload the gun, nimble fingers slipping the ammunition back into a small locker underneath his desk and locking it. He moves past her to put the gun away. Even being out here so many times in the years since she first showed up, his gun room still makes her nervous, but she knows Kurt is always careful about locking everything away. His safety precautions were never solely for her benefit. “You want some lunch before you head back?”

Diane knows if Lucca was here, he wouldn’t be offering. She shakes her head. “I should go.” 

“It’s a long drive. You should eat something.”

Normally, she would turn him down in an attempt to remain wholly professional, but she supposes that particular ship sailed a long time ago, and she’s enjoying this newfound friendship with him. It will be at least a 45 minute drive back to Chicago, depending on the traffic, and she is hungry. “Yeah, okay. That would be nice.” 

*

A few days later, Kurt comes to the office to share his findings with the team. “I have a small request,” he says before they break for the day. “I want it to be Ms. Lockhart who questions me.” Julius all but rolls his eyes.

The plan was for Lucca to question Kurt in court. She rarely looks thrown, but this gives her pause. Diane can see it. “I’m not sure that’s wise.” 

“K-Mr. McVeigh,” she tries, stopping herself from using his first name. “We’ve already decided who will be interviewing each witness.” 

“But you were the one who came to the lab to see my findings,” he says, mostly looking to Diane. “You were walked through the scene.” It’s hard logic to argue against. 

Diane defers to Lucca. “What do you think?” 

Lucca between them, then tilts her head towards Diane. “Honestly, I think it’s a liability given your previous relationship. The prosecution won’t hesitate to question you about-” 

He simply shrugs. “Let ‘em. It has nothing to do with my relationship with Diane.” 

Lucca opens her mouth to respond, but thinks better of it. Diane picks up on her cue. “Can we talk about this in my office?” she asks quietly. 

She closes the door behind them, bracing herself for an argument. “You’re pissed,” he says. There’s an edge to the tone of his voice, one she’s never heard before. Bitterness. 

“No,” she turns towards him, shaking her head. “I’m confused.”

“What’s confusing? Lucca didn’t come to the lab, so I want you to question me.” He’s not wrong, but the Kurt she knows would realize he’s making unnecessary waves. The old Kurt never made demands, even small ones. He did his testing, he found the answer, he showed up in court and gave his testimony. 

“I get that, but Lucca’s right, they could use our relationship against you.” 

“I-” 

“Please don’t say that you don’t care. I know that you do,” she says before he can spout another unfeeling response. Her voice rises to make sure he understands. “Anyway, this is about our client. We want the best testimony for her.”

“I want to do right by your client, too, but all I’m asking for is one little change.” 

Diane takes off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose. She can’t do this again, can’t have her personal life dragged out in court. “No, Kurt. I’m afraid of what will happen.” His brow furrows. He’s never known her to readily admit her fears. “That they’ll do it again,” she continues. “They’ll make us the focus. Bring up the divorce or…” A flash of memory. His face in the courtroom. Unable to look at her. It was the moment she knew. 

She crumples down onto the couch, like the wind has been knocked out of her, tears pricking her eyes. He’s right there beside her, his hand on her shoulder, telling her to breathe. “Diane, you’re okay.” He counts breaths with her for a minute and makes soothing circles on her shoulder until she calms down. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I was being a jerk, you don’t have to-” 

She waves him off. “I don’t want to talk about the case.”

“Yeah, okay.” He falls quiet beside her. “So,” he says a minute later. “The Cubs, huh?” 

“You really are terrible at the small talk thing,” she replies, chuckling. 

“It got you to smile.” 

Diane gives him a sidelong look, punctuated by one of her smirks. “Okay, you’ve won this round.” 

“Other than me being a pain in your ass, how are things going here? When are they adding your name to the sign?” 

It’s sweet of him to assume they value her as much here. She wishes it were true, but from day one, she’s sensed push back from the other partners. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I still have to come up with my capital contribution.” 

“If you ever need anything-”

“I know and I appreciate that,” she says, cutting him off. “I do, but I need to figure this out on my own.” 

“You wouldn’t need to pay me back right away…” he continues. 

“Kurt.”

He holds up his hands. “Okay. But hey, if you need a last resort.” 

“I’ll remember that. Thank you.” He’s always been good at comforting her. 

*

Lucca and Diane exchange looks as the prosecution begins to question Kurt about his business. They’d expected the other side to try and discredit his testimony, of course, but the question lingering in Diane’s mind was how far they were willing to push to do so.

“How many cases would you say you’ve worked on?” 

Lucca rises in an attempt to shorten this portion of the prosecution’s strategy. “Objection. Relevance.” 

“I’m simply trying to establish whether Mr. McVeigh is a reliable expert, your honor.” Marcus Aguilar shoots the judge a polished smile. It’s the first time Diane has encountered him, but he reminds her a lot of Will. Clever and cunning, but also charming.

“Speed it up then, please. Overruled, Ms. Quinn. You may answer the question, Mr. McVeigh.” The judge instructs. 

“I’m not sure of the exact number. Hundreds.” Kurt glances at her in between his answers. It feels glaringly obvious to her and she tries to keep her gaze focused on the jury or the judge instead. 

“And do you have a relationship with anyone on the defense team?” 

“Objection!” Lucca quickly stands again, startling Diane. 

“Seems relevant to me, Ms. Quinn,” the judge replies nonchalantly. “Overruled.” Diane can’t avoid watching him now, her heart beating in her throat. 

“What do you mean by relationship?” Kurt asks slowly. She can’t help it, she smiles at him, and notices the glint in his eye. 

“I mean, are you romantically involved with someone from the defense?” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucca glances at Diane, who straightens in her chair. She knew to brace herself for this, but there’s not anything they can do about it now. 

“No.” Kurt answers and Diane bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

Marcus sounds frustrated. “Have you  _ ever _ had a relationship with-”

“Objection!” 

“Yes, Ms. Quinn. I see your point.” The judge sounds as calm and as uninterested as ever. “Once again, Mr. Aguilar, get there faster.” 

“Isn’t it true that you’re married to Ms. Lockhart?” 

Kurt has always been smart about not saying more than he needs to on the stand, so she’s genuinely curious to hear how he will answer the question. “Ms. Lockhart and I were married, yes.” He draws out her title in his mouth.  _ Miz _ Lockhart. 

“Were?” Marcus glances over at her, his eyes widening, his jaw slightly slack. 

“Your intelligence is old. Ms. Lockhart and I divorced,” Kurt replies firmly. Diane ducks her head, not to avoid his gaze, but to keep from laughing. With a shaking hand, she reaches for her water glass. Mr. Aguilar turns back to check his notes and she notices a soft look pass over Kurt’s face. She glances up at him then, hoping he can see the gratefulness in her eyes.

*

As they leave the courtroom for the day, she sees him out of the corner of her eye, surprised he’s still there. He stands as she approaches. “Thank you,” she says sincerely. “You were great.” 

“I’m sorry they brought it up.” 

Diane shrugs and shakes her head. “We realized they were going to ask about it no matter who was questioning you.” 

“You have to go back to the office?” 

“No, not tonight.” The moment sits there between them. 

“Come have a drink with me.” It’s the kind of thing he used to say when they were separated. She was never sure how to respond then, either. Never knew if he was asking because he wanted to have a drink as friends, if he missed her, if he simply wanted to sleep with her.    


“Kurt.” His name comes out of her mouth, soft, apologetic. 

He nods, understanding. “I’m at the Sheraton if you change your mind.” 

Arriving home, she drops her bags in the entryway and heads upstairs to change. Noticing how quiet the house is, she thinks about Kurt’s offer again and instead returns downstairs to turn on the news. When the news ends, she flips through the channels idly, glancing over at her phone, wishing it would light up with a message from him. Realizing she’s being ridiculous, she heads upstairs to change, put on lipstick, and slip back into her heels. In a cab on the way over, she texts him. When she walks into the hotel bar, he’s there waiting for her. She doesn’t miss how his eyes flick up and down her body as she approaches. A warmth rises in her stomach. “Hi,” she greets him. 

“Hey,” he says just as casually. “I was going to order you something, but wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for.” As usual, he’s drinking beer.

“White wine is fine.” Kurt signals the bartender and they fall into an easy conversation. Things veer into all too familiar territory when one of them brings up politics and they fall into a disagreement. Diane finishes her wine. “I may need something stronger if we’re going to continue this conversation.” 

He chuckles. “I’ll stop.”

“You like egging me on.” 

“And you can’t resist an argument.” He sounds annoyed, but he’s clearly enjoying needling her. 

She laughs. “You’re right about that.” 

His hand brushes past her knee and she can feel the shift. Going from friends to something more in an instant. “If you need something stronger, I have scotch upstairs.” Kurt says it off-handedly, but both of them knew exactly where this night was headed as soon as she decided to meet him for a drink.     


Feeling light-headed, she pauses, wishing they could go back to just a moment ago when they were teasing each other about politics and then in the same breath, she’s the one who pushes things forward. “We shouldn’t.” Her voice dips to a low whisper and she can see the flicker of desire in his eyes. 

“No, we probably shouldn’t.” He agrees. Diane can’t figure out if he’s playing along or calling her bluff. Kurt gestures to the bartender for his tab and as he’s signing his name, she puts her hand on his knee, moving it slowly up his thigh. His jaw clenches.

“Let’s go.” His voice is forceful but hushed.

There are a number of people in the lobby, boisterous from a night out on the town, and Diane hangs back, eyes scanning the room. It’s stupid, but she’s afraid someone will spot them together and use it as ammunition in the courtroom again. He reaches for her hand and looks over at her questioningly when she doesn’t move. “We’re working together. We can’t do this.” 

“I already gave my testimony.” It’s not what she means and he knows it. Waiting for her answer, he runs a hand slowly down her arm. Her skin prickles underneath his touch and she leans into him, his breath hot on her cheek. His dark eyes hold hers the whole time, willing her to say no. She gives him a small nod and follows him towards the elevators. They wait for the large group to take the first one, Diane standing slightly apart from him, trying to avoid his gaze.     


The lobby quiets and she lets out a breath. When the elevator arrives, its dinging bell so loud, it startles her. When the elevator doors slide closed, it’s just the two of them. Kurt steps into her and she leans her head back against the wall, smirking at him. He stops his movements, waiting for her. She takes his face in her hands, tipping his chin towards her, before kissing him slowly, seductively. When she pulls back, it’s her watching him, not the other way around. “Ms. Lockhart?” he draws out the title  _ Miz _ , just like he had in court. His eyes dance with delight, but the elevator door dings, signaling his floor, and interrupting the moment. 

As soon as he opens the door and they step inside, she pulls him towards her swiftly, her mouth rough against his. He kisses her back hungrily and the two of them stumble up against the wall.  

“All that  _ Ms. _ Lockhart, god, you were driving me crazy,” she says hurriedly into his ear as he pushes her blazer off her shoulders, his lips finding her neck, before he pulls back, a cocky little smile pulling at his mouth. She hates him for it.    


“That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“It’s the  _ way _ you say it.” 

His fingertips trail along the fabric of her blouse. “How’s that?” He reaches down, pulling at her blouse where it’s tucked into her skirt and his hand snakes underneath the hem, warm against her stomach. Her eyes fall closed at his touch, but he doesn’t stop, continuing his path up her ribcage and over her bra, before lifting the shirt carefully over her head. This time he returns with his mouth, kissing her lips, her neck, along her collarbone. 

“Like you’re teasing me.” She takes in a sharp breath as his mouth meets the top of her breast. 

“Maybe I was, a little,” he whispers against her skin. “You want me to do it again?” 

“Mmhmm.” He slowly unzips her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Wearing only her bra, underwear, stockings, and heels, his gaze travels slowly down her body. Diane’s skin flushes and nervousness pricks at her stomach. The way he’s looking at her tonight is tinged with more than lust. Something more akin to adoration. It makes her uncomfortable, and she wishes he would touch her again so they can return to the expected, the physical. 

As if picking up on her thoughts, Kurt runs his hand across her bare skin, her waist, over her hip, and around to her ass. He presses the length of his body into hers ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. His other hand joins the one already resting on her ass and presses her hips into him. She can feel how hard he is and lets out a gasp, knowing he will let this go on for a while, teasing her, touching her, before she can do what she really wants to him. 

He steps back, letting his fingers run along the top of her stockings, rolling the fabric slowly over her hips, breath hitching in her throat as he slips his hand inside her panties and touches her. When he feels how wet she is, he lets out a moan and nips at her neck. It’s taking every ounce of willpower she has not to move against him. “What do you want?” he asks, voice gravelly in her ear. 

“You.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The glint of his wedding ring catches the light. She tries to remember if he’d worn it during the case, on the stand, in his lab. There were so many times she should have noticed but didn’t. It’s nothing, she tries to assure herself, but her mind can’t let go of it so easily. He wore it through their separation, she knows that, but can’t come up with a reason as to why he would still be wearing it now. Except for the fact that she’s in his bed now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically listened to Sara Bareillis "Send Me The Moon" and "Bluebird" on repeat to write this one.

After that, there’s less preamble. One of them calls the other for a drink and they end up going back to her apartment. 

It’s liberating to get lost in each other. Inevitably, even this will become fraught with old hurt. They both know it can’t continue on forever. But for now, in a sense, it’s the freest they’ve ever been. There’s no expectation. No pressure to heal past wounds before falling into bed together. 

*

Joy and relief sweep over her as she steps out of Adrian’s office. She’d seen the looks of outrage and surprise on Barbara and Julius’ faces, but held steady, insisting the firm see her value as name partner. Her capital contribution was made. It’s the best she’s felt in a long time. She only wishes she had someone to celebrate it with. Returning to her office, she glances at her cell phone, only to see the screen blank. Diane isn’t surprised. She and Kurt rarely talk between their near weekly rendezvous. Instead, she heads out to the bullpen, easily spotting Maia’s red hair. “Diane, hi.” 

“Are you too cool to get a drink with your godmother after work?”

Maia’s face falls. “Of course not, but Amy and I have plans.”     


“Oh, of course you do.” Diane waves off her concerns. “Enjoy your evening. Tell Amy I said hi.” 

“We’ll get a drink next week, okay?” 

“That sounds lovely.” She squeezes Maia’s shoulder before going. Wandering back into her office, she remembers a bottle of scotch she’d hidden away behind her stock of wine. 

As she’s twisting open the cap, she hears someone behind her. “Celebrating, I hope?” 

Marissa is smirking at her from the doorway. “Get in here,” she tells her. 

The girl’s jaw drops. It may be the only time Diane has seen her speechless. “Really?” 

Diane chuckles. “Really.” She hands Marissa a glass. “Wait, you’re not driving, right?” 

Marissa makes a face. “No, I take the L.” 

“Good for you.” Diane likes having Marissa around. It makes her remember how hungry she was at that age, how she was perfectly content with living in a shoebox apartment and working all hours. “Sit, sit.” She gestures at the couch. 

“We are celebrating something, right?” Marissa asks again, sounding uncertain.

“I’m going to be a name partner.”

Marissa lets out an excited gasp and leans forward to clink her glass with Diane’s. “Congratulations! That’s huge.” After they both sip their scotch, she asks, “Does that mean I get a raise?” 

Diane laughs. It’s yet another reason she likes her. She’s nothing like the perfectly competent, but sometimes unnervingly quiet assistants Diane’s had in the past. Marissa isn’t afraid to show her personality, make waves. “No, but I’m happy to talk about it in six months.” 

She asks Marissa about her career goals and tells her a little bit about how she started out. It’s nice to connect in this way, outside the usual chaos of the workday. When Marissa finally says good night, Diane is still feeling effects of the adrenaline rush from being named partner. Despite the alcohol, she’s antsy, foot swinging under her desk. She picks up her phone, pulling up Kurt’s contact information, her thumb hovering over the call button. Pressing it quickly, before she has too much time to think, she puts the phone to her ear and listens to it ring and ring. Before it can go to voicemail, she hangs up, scrambles under her desk for her heels, slips them on, and takes the elevator down the parking garage. 

_ This is stupid, this is so stupid _ , she thinks over and over as she drives. Trying to tune out her own thoughts, she turns up the classical music she always has playing. As she nears his exit, the music cuts out and his name flashes up on the screen in her car, making her stomach do a somersault. She presses the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hi.”

“Hey. You okay?” Even through the tinny speakers in her car, Kurt sounds confused as to why she was calling. 

“Yeah, um, are you home?” 

“Yeahhh,” he answers slowly. “Why?” 

“I’m pulling off at the exit now.” He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Kurt? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s...Yeah. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Diane tries not to let his hesitation worm its way into her mind. It occurs to her it’s the first time she’s driving out to his place since they started doing this, and when she glances at the clock, she realizes it’s much later than she thought. She’ll have to stay the night. Okay, she clearly didn’t think this through. 

She pulls up his drive a few minutes later. The glow of lights inside, his truck parked out front, are all familiar details she thought she’d pushed aside. A lump rises up in her throat, remembering all the times she parked behind his truck, feeling safe, wanted, and relieved to be home

Trying to channel her good feeling from earlier in the evening, she hangs onto it as she gets out of her car and walks up to the house. When she knocks, he opens the door almost immediately, as if he had been watching her approach. “Hi,” she says again, a little nervous now, face to face. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. I did try to call.” 

Kurt’s watching her, a hand shoved in his back pocket. He doesn’t say anything, instead pulling her in for a kiss. “Hi,” he says softly, reaching up to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear. If he could sense she was nervous, she doesn’t know, but his relaxed greeting has made all of her nerves evaporate. She wraps an arm around his shoulder and kisses him, more hungrily than before, and Kurt has to take a step back to catch himself. His beard scrapes softly against her cheeks, igniting something else entirely in her, and she reaches for his belt buckle. “Really?” he asks, nipping at her top lip. “You’re so predictable.” She laughs, the sound turning into a gasp as his mouth meets the sensitive spot on her neck. 

Lying in bed with him afterwards, her body still buzzing with heat, she remembers she intended to tell him the impetus for showing up on his doorstep out of the blue. “This wasn’t the only reason I showed up tonight.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her, his fingers tracing a line across her collarbone . “It wasn’t?” She second guesses herself then. Maybe it was the only reason. Kurt must see her doubt, because he nudges her. “I was kidding. You can tell me.” 

“No, it’s stupid.” She’s embarrassed, afraid her getting a name partnership will sound like bragging, even though he’s the person she used to tell. 

“Diane, come on.” He draws his hand across her shoulder in a soothing motion. 

“I’m going to be a name partner. I talked to Adrian about it today.” She puts a hand over her face, her cheeks flushing. 

“What? That’s great!” He tries to move her hand away from her face so he can see her, but she rolls over into her pillow. “Stop trying to hide!” Diane starts laughing at his frustration, made even worse by his hands tickling her side. 

“Stop, stop,” she insists, but she can’t stop laughing, even as she wiggles, trying to get out of his grasp. “Kurt!” She accidentally thrashes a little too hard and her elbow connects sharply against him. With a grunt, he falls back onto the bed behind her and she immediately sits up, looking over at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” His voice is strained, like he’s had the breath knocked out of him. 

“I’m sorry,” she says soothingly. “Where did I get you?” 

He gestures to a spot along his lower ribcage. “Don’t know your own strength.” The glint of his wedding ring catches the light. She tries to remember if he’d worn it during the case, on the stand, in his lab. There were so many times she should have noticed but didn’t. _It’s nothing_ , she tries to assure herself, but her mind can’t let go of it so easily. He wore it through their separation, she knows that, but can’t come up with a reason as to why he would still be wearing it now. Except for the fact that she’s in his bed now. That they’ve been together, in a semi-regular fashion, since their divorce. Her gut clenches when she notices him looking at her strangely. Trying to return to herself, return to the moment, she lowers herself down next to him and lets her fingertips trace along the scruff of his beard.   


“You should be proud of yourself, you know.” His voice is low and hushed and just as quickly, she has proof of why he’s still wearing his ring, why this is so dangerous. Because he genuinely cares about her and even though she’s tried her hardest to forget how he makes her feel, no matter how deeply she’s buried her hurt, her love, her mess of feelings for him, they are all still there. 

“Thanks,” she tells him simply, needing to back away slowly so he doesn’t see how frightened she is. Can he see her calculating how early she can leave in the morning? Will he notice when she keeps her distance as they fall asleep? 

Any idea about her sneaking out early in the morning is ruined when she opens her eyes and sees sunlight spilling through the curtains. Kurt is already up and she can hear sounds of him making breakfast. It’s the best sleep she’s gotten in a long time. 

When she appears in the kitchen, dressed and ready for her day, the look in Kurt’s eyes and the way the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile make her stomach heavy with guilt. He starts to stop his cooking to pour her a cup of coffee, but she steps around him. “It’s okay. I’ve got it.” 

“What do you want to eat? I’ve got eggs and bacon.” 

“I can’t stay,” she says apologetically and he looks over at her. He’s stoic, as always, but she notices the way his face falls before he looks away. 

“It’s okay, I know how it is. You showing up here late but running off in the morning.” He’s joking, but she hears the uncertainty, the raw emotion underneath. 

She hates this. They’d had such a good time last night. The guilt, the hurt, the fighting are what she’s been hoping to avoid by keeping things casual. “Sorry, but I’m running late for work.” Hates herself for apologizing. 

“No, it’s okay. I knew I was signing up for this.” There it is again. The bitterness in his tone. 

“Kurt,” she sighs. “Can we be adults about this?”

He frowns at her. “What the hell does that even mean?”    


She knows she’s supposed to ask why he’s upset. She knows she’s supposed to sit and have a conversation and assuage his fears, but she can’t. She can’t. Both physically--she’s already late for work and since she’s a new name partner, she really should be setting a good example--and emotionally. She can’t have this conversation with him yet. It’s too soon. They just started this. Diane pushes away the idea that he’s the one who has been making her feel happy in the midst of a long string of bad months. “You knew what it was from the beginning.” 

Kurt pushes back his sleeves and crosses his arms over his chest. “I did,” he says sadly. She tries not to point out how he was the one who asked her out for a drink after the case, how more often than not, he calls her and names a place to meet. “You should go to work,” he finally says, like he’s dismissing her. 

Part of her wants to go, not look back, but part of her hesitates. “Kurt…”

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He won’t look at her. Hands shaking, she picks up her bag. She’s frustrated with him, frustrated with herself. As she pulls down the driveway, she glances back in the mirror, expecting to see him come out of the house, watch her drive away, but there’s no one. Just the house and the trees. 


	4. Chapter 4

At work, she’s still under scrutiny, especially from the other name partners, so she concentrates on working better and smarter in order to prove herself. It’s like she’s climbing the ranks all over again. She is grateful for Adrian, though. Over their years of working together, her relationship with Will deepened and they developed their own shorthand. For a long time after his death, it was hard for her to carry on alone, knowing she most likely would never find someone to fill his void, but she feels something akin to their partnership in Adrian. They have an easy, collegial way with each other, but they’re able to discuss deeper, existential questions about law and justice, too. 

Reinvigorated by the firm’s commitment to causes so close to her heart, Adrian invites her to a fundraiser dinner for the Chicago Legal Clinic. After they stop by the bar, Adrian is saying something to her, but her focus is elsewhere. “Diane? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I’m so sorry. I guess I have, of a sort. My ex-husband is here.” Kurt is standing across the room, looking entirely too handsome in a navy blue suit, and talking to a couple she doesn’t recognize. She hasn’t heard from him, hasn’t expected to, since their argument at his place. 

“Uh oh,” Adrian intones. “Is that a good or a bad thing?” 

Diane’s so surprised to see him, she’s not sure of the answer. “I… I’m not sure. He usually hates these things.” 

“He’s the ballistics guy, right? The one who helped us win that case a couple months ago?”

She nods, finishing off her glass of champagne. “Yeah, he is. Come on. I’ll introduce you.” 

*

When he’s going to semi-formal events in hopes of seeing her, he knows he’s become a lost cause. Kurt has imagined her reaction upon seeing him there, but when he looks up from his drink, it’s her who is coming towards him. She’s wearing bright red lipstick and a black dress, which shows off her figure, her small waist and the curve of her hips. The top half is a delicate lace pattern before becoming opaque around her decolletage. He knows it’s cliche, but he can only stare, even as he realizes the man following behind her is most likely the firm’s managing partner. They haven’t spoken in several weeks, but Diane gives him a soft smile as she approaches, her hand landing on his arm as she brushes a quick kiss to his cheek. 

He thinks he says how great she looks, but it feels like he’s underwater and responding to everything more slowly. When she introduces him to Adrian, his brain finally returns to normal speed. “It’s nice to meet you,” Adrian says. “And thanks for all the help on the case a couple months ago. I hear you turned the tide for our client.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He replies humbly. 

Diane is shaking her head and lets out a little chuckle. She knows how he feels about praise. “Sorry,” she apologizes to Adrian. “Kurt’s not very good at taking a compliment.” 

Both he and Adrian laugh then. “It’s true,” he admits. “Makes me uncomfortable.” 

“Hey, I can respect that.” The three of them talk for awhile longer, but it’s obvious Adrian knows the majority of the people in the room, as they keep stopping by to say hello and ask if they can have a minute of his time later. Based on his jovial spirit, he can see why Diane would enjoy working with him. As much as she loves the law, he’s seen Diane get burnt out. Having someone with such a buoyant personality would be a great asset for the de facto leader of a firm.    


After Adrian makes a joke about keeping Kurt on retainer for the firm, he says something to Diane about seeing her later and moves off to make his rounds. Out of the corner of his eye, Diane is looking expectantly at him. “What?” 

“You want to tell me why you’re at a fundraiser for the Chicago Legal Clinic?” He turns to look at her, just as her eyebrows rise and her mouth twitches upwards into her familiar smirk, a look which usually signifies she knows she has the advantage. 

Kurt simply shrugs and looks her directly in the eye as he replies, “Networking.” 

Diane lets out one of her laughs and as hard as he tries to maintain a straight face, he can’t, his mouth pulling into a grin. “Come on,” she tells him, her hand landing briefly on his arm again. “I need another drink.” 

As they wait in line at the bar, he tells her gently, “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.” 

She shrugs casually. “It’s okay.” 

He doesn’t understand how she can act so cavalierly about it, but he knows better than to press her, especially when she’s at least talking to him again, so he changes the subject. “Did Adrian mean what he said?” 

“About what?” A line creases in her forehead. 

“Keeping me on retainer at the firm.” 

She gives him a long look he isn’t able to decipher. It’s not something he’s ever wanted, given his rules about guilty clients, but his retirement plans hadn’t turned out as he hoped--he was envisioning spending a lot more time with his wife, for one--and he did enjoy working on cases. “Wouldn’t you hate that? It goes against your morals.” He cringes. “Sorry,” she apologizes, knowing he hates that word. “Your principles.”

“I probably would,” he admits, because it’s true. “But I miss going to crime scenes, being in the lab.” 

Diane frowns. “You still do that, though, don’t you?” There’s the same concentration and concern on her face now as when she’s in the middle of figuring out a crucial piece of information for a case. He knows that look, seen it when she gets up at five a.m. to go over her case files for something she’s missed. 

“Yeah, sometimes.” 

“Are you doing okay? I mean, your business?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He brushes the question off, but can’t meet her eye.

“Kurt.” She says his name barely above a whisper, her fingers brushing against his knuckles. “Talk to me. Please.” 

He turns his hand palm up, offering it to her. She slips her hand into his and they stand there together, hidden in a throng of lawyers and other do-gooders trying to get to the cash bar, but for a moment, they’re simply them. Not hidden, not secretive. “I made the mistake of telling a lot of my clients that I was going to retire,” he sighs. “And I tried, for awhile. Didn’t really stick.”  _ You weren’t there with me _ , he thinks. “So I started taking on a case here or there, but when I reached out to my old clients, most of them had found other people.”

“I’m so sorry.” He wants to stroke her cheek, kiss her in front of all these people, because she’s the only one who understands. 

“It’s…” He almost tells her it’s fine again, but she’s being so sympathetic, so he finally admits, “Yeah, it stinks, but I’m fine, you know, money wise. Bored, but hey, what can you do?”

“I can talk to Adrian if you really want to-”

“No,” he says, cutting her off. “I appreciate the offer, I do, but you’re right, I wouldn’t like it. And I would hate myself for doing it, so.” 

The people in front of them finally part and the bartender gestures for them to step forward. "Sorry for the wait. What can I get for you?" He’s friendly, with dark eyes and dark hair, and Kurt realizes the man is about their age.  _ See, _ he thinks.  _ It could be worse. You could be so strapped for cash you have to work as a bartender. _

Kurt gets his beer and then steps aside so the people behind him can move forward. Diane orders her drink and is making conversation with the bartender. She laughs at something he says, which makes the bartender smile, and then laugh along with her. Kurt straightens suddenly, realizing what this guy is doing. He’s flirting with her. Diane still hasn’t paid for her drink or even reached for her clutch. He knows he shouldn’t go up there, but he can’t watch the two of them any longer, so he makes his way back over to her. As he comes up behind her, he rests his hand at the small of her back. “Here, let me get this.” Setting down his glass, he fishes out his wallet, glancing between the two of them. The bartender looks like he’s suppressing a smirk, but he’s already moved on to the next people in line. “No wonder this place is packed if it takes him that long to make a vodka tonic.” 

“Oh, come on,” she laughs as they step away from the bar. 

“Come on, what?” He turns to look at her, the smirk playing across her face again. 

“You’re jealous.” 

“Of what?”

“Kurt.” 

“He was flirting with you.” There’s an edge to his voice that he doesn’t like. He hates being jealous, hates feeling the particular weakness that sits there, waiting to be poked. 

“Yes, I know.” Diane doesn’t say it crudely, just matter of fact. “I wasn’t going to act on it.” As teasing and light as she had been the moment before, he hears the edge in her voice now.

“Okay.” He feels stupid, but at the same time, he’s sitting there, wondering if Diane has been with other guys, if she dated someone after they got divorced, if she’s seeing anyone now.

Kurt sees the look she’s giving him, confused and broken. He should have realized what he was saying. He should have realized this was about his stupid decision from nearly two years ago. A decision which still haunts him. She has absolutely every right to be pissed, because he knows he’s being a hypocrite, but just a minute ago, she was holding his hand and he was telling her something he hadn’t told anyone else. Those moments mean something to him. He can’t lose her over something so stupid, but then realizes maybe he already has. The minute he signed those divorce papers. 

He doesn’t know how to react to her hurt, doesn’t know if he ever has, but he’s saved by Adrian showing up and asking Diane if she can come meet some people. Kurt wonders if he should go home. But she’s back a few minutes later, her drink half empty, and stupidly, this gives him hope. She may hate him, but she’s not going to abandon him at a fundraiser where he doesn’t know anyone.  _ This was such an idiotic idea _ . 

Diane drops into the chair next to him with a sigh. As she crosses her legs, she brushes against his and the jolt it sends through him is enough to make him stay. “I guess I should go,” she says simply. “It’s late.” Either she’s playing coy or throwing him a life raft. Kurt is watching her face, trying to understand, when she leans into him. “Come home with me.” It’s not a question, but a demand. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, even though it was him who wasn’t sure before. He’s still not sure. Kurt knows he--they--shouldn’t do this, not this way, but if it’s the only way he can be with her, it’s what he’ll choose every time. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” she says, her blue eyes meeting his, her assurity apparent. It’s what made him fall for her the first time, her confidence, and through the years, it hasn’t lost its power over him.     


“Good, because I’ve been wanting to get you out of that dress all night,” he murmurs into her ear. He loves seeing the effect his words have on her. Most of the time, it’s a subtle shift in her body or they way she carries herself, and it makes the moment feel all the more private. 

They’re barely in the door of her apartment before his hands are on her ass, pulling her back against him. She’s shaking with anticipation and he pushes her off of him slightly, reaching for the zipper on her dress. As the fabric falls away from her skin, he can’t stop touching her. Most of it is hurried, but every once in awhile, he’ll slow down, like running his knuckles softly down her spine. Diane stills against him, holding her breath, and for a moment, it’s not just sex. It’s intimacy. It’s them. 

But just as quickly, she’s tugging him upstairs by his tie. He’s happy to let her take the lead, his head falling back, his breathing becoming ragged as he lets her touch him. Finally, finally, she pushes him back onto the bed and swings her legs over his, lowering herself slowly onto him, his hips bucking when he feels her, that same smirk crossing her face as they start to move together, slow at first, but faster with her encouragement. 

He’s watching her closely, trying to hold on for her, but she shows no signs of slowing down and he’s starting to shudder against the pressure. His lips make delicate, incomplete patterns across her body, her breath warm and comforting on his neck. She’s thinking about it too much, he can see it on her face, the way she bites her lip. As she presses her hips down and he rises up to meet her, he draws close to her ear and whispers, “Let go.” 

Her arm wrapped around his neck, she looks down at him, surprised and for a moment, he can see her so clearly, before she darts away again, slipping through his fingers like mist. But she listens, her body giving over to him, his hands tight on her waist, holding her there, his grip tightening even further when he follows shortly after. 

Whatever she had seen on his face which made her run away, she’s not worried about it now or doesn’t care, because she allows him to cradle her against his chest, both of them breathing heavily.  

*

Bodies curled together. Heat and sweat and friction. Diane draws her fingers in careful lines down his arms and in arcs across his chest. She should be happy, sated, but instead when she looks at his face, there’s a deep sense of loss. Of missing the person who is right in front of her. 

She never thought she would want to go back to the purgatory they were in during the separation. The not talking, the not sleeping (on her part), accompanied by an ever-present numbness. She didn’t feel invested in cases or her work and she certainly didn’t feel excited about her life out of work, which very quickly became coming home and falling into bed at an early hour. It was the longest she’d ever felt sorry for herself. And it wasn’t just sorrow for herself. It was for them. What they had, what Kurt had meant to her, what their lives could have been, together. She hadn’t wanted the divorce because of her financial situation, she wanted it because it hurt every time she saw him, every time she heard his voice.      


And here she was, hurting again, but knowing they can’t go back to whatever holding pattern they were in before. They did this to themselves. Their addiction to each other is starting to scare her. She wonders where this can possibly go other than more hurt. She knows the continual draw between them won't be easy to escape. 

Her fingers stop tracing his body and curl into a fist. She moves off of him and lies with her back to him, hoping if she doesn’t look at him, she can more easily ignore all the feelings bubbling up inside. But turning away from him is worse. She can feel the heat from his body, his breath on her neck, the weight of him next to her. Rolling over, she kisses him hungrily, because it’s the only way she can deal with her feelings of frustration. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she draws back, those eyes on hers. Sometimes he can see her so easily and other times, he’s searching for an answer. Tonight, it feels like one look from him can cut through her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst, angst, angst

Her car pulls onto the gravel path leading to his house and as she parks behind his truck, the golden yellow glow from the windows beckons her inside. Diane turns off the ignition, swings open her door, and her foot has barely hit the gravel below when she freezes. Thoughts she hasn’t had in a long time suddenly materialize. After learning about his affair, she had these visions almost every night for months. Coming home after a long day of work and finding him in bed with another woman. Walking into his house and catching the two of them on the couch. The woman was always blonde, but not always Holly. 

She slumps back into the driver’s seat, too rattled to drive and unable to move. Finally, she hears footsteps and looks up to see Kurt standing over her. “Are you going to sit out here all night?” Grateful to see him, she scrambles out of the car and throws her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder so he won’t notice the tears at the corners of her eyes. But of course he does. “What happened?” he asks softly, letting her tuck her face into his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she manages to say. “I’m just being silly.”

When she draws back, those eyes on hers. Sometimes he can see her so easily and other times, he’s searching for an answer. Tonight, it feels like one look from him can cut through her. “Well, at least come inside. It’s cold out here.” She lets him loop his arm around her waist, drawing her into him as they walk, shoulders pressed together, heads down in an effort to stay warm on the short walk to the house. Indoors is a relief, her hands and feet stiff from the cold. There’s already a fire going in the living room, like he expected her to come. He offers her food and drink, but she shakes her head to both, content to plant herself on the couch in front of the fireplace. She can hear him in the kitchen, cleaning up, before he appears, setting down a glass of water for her. They sit there for a minute, his leg leaning against hers, before he asks again, “You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” 

_ We’re going on with me _ , she thinks. We made a mess of this and I don’t know how to get out of it without one or both of us getting hurt. It was stupid to think this was a solution, a get out of jail free card to all of their past heartbreak and grief. 

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

He sighs, clearly frustrated. Thinking he’s going to drop it, Diane reaches up to wipe her eyes. “But I do.” The softness in his voice surprises her. 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to.” She says this simply, trying to turn back the tide of this conversation, but also because she means it. She can take care of herself and she doesn’t need people worrying about her. 

She certainly doesn’t expect his raised voice response. “Jesus, Diane! I care about you.” 

“I can’t...you shouldn’t.” Diane whispers the words and for a long time, the room is quiet and she thinks maybe she didn’t say anything at all. 

Kurt stands, practically pacing back and forth in front of her. She’s rarely seen him this upset and it makes her feel worse, knowing she did this to him. “So I don’t get to care about you because we’re divorced? Or because we’re sleeping together?” He only half waits for an answer before continuing. “I’m just supposed to fuck you and not have emotions?” 

“I don’t want to talk about this.” She stands, tears blurring her vision, having no idea what to say or how to fix this. 

“So you were just planning to never talk about it?” Kurt looks at her, eyes angry and confused. “You can’t run away from your feelings forever.”     


She tried to be so careful this time. “I need to go.” Frantically, she looks around for her coat and purse. 

“Yeah, please, walk out. You’re good at that.” Hearing him dismiss her so easily, that bitterness in his voice, makes her snap. Like she gave up on their marriage so easily, like she’s the one who slept with someone else. The fact that he doesn’t understand what a long, twisted road it has been for her to even be standing here really pisses her off. 

“You don’t fucking get to say that to me.” Her whole body is vibrating with anger, voice shaking, tears falling down her cheeks. Kurt freezes, dumbstruck. A shameful look passes across his face, but it’s not enough. “Nothing’s changed, so we don’t have anything to talk about.” She manages to say as she finds her coat, throwing it dramatically around her shoulders. “I’m going home.” 

He says something to her as she’s heading out the door, it sounds like, “You don’t really believe that,” but she’s done with this. Done with him. 

When she reaches her car, her hands are still shaking as tries to get the key into the ignition. She shouldn’t be driving, but hell would have to freeze over for her to stay here. 

Diane begins to regain more and more of herself the farther away she gets from his house and by the time she can see the city lights in the distance, she’s almost breathing normally. Almost. In her mind, she keeps hearing his words.  _ I’m just supposed to fuck you and not have emotions? You can’t run away from your feelings forever.  _

What an utter mess they’ve made. Again. 

*

In the story of their relationship, Kurt knows he’s the one to blame. He’s the one that made a choice which effectively ended their marriage. It’s an easy incident to cite, but really the final blow came at the end of a long series of moments. Of course he didn’t see any of that then. For a long time, his decision haunted him, caused him deep remorse (it still did), but now, finally, he had begun to realize how much they were both to blame. They’d wrecked things, the both of them. Maybe it was selfish to even think. He wasn’t solely to blame, when he had so clearly gutted his wife, driven her past the point of ever forgiving him. But he had also spent so much of the past years trying to earn, no, desperately needing her forgiveness. 

He had made an irrevocable decision, yes, but he’s an injured party, too. All those months he spent reaching out, trying to go about mending things, and hearing nothing in return. The pleadings and cajoling left in voicemails, the number of times he apologized, said I love you. It hadn’t made a dent in the fortress of Diane. What he said the other night, about her walking out, it’s how he’s felt, all these months. She abandoned him. In their darkest time. She left because the wound was too big to heal. But he had stayed, trying to regrow, trying to learn to be better.    


*

Diane has always given people the benefit of the doubt. It’s how she was raised. The old adage, don’t judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes, really was true of anyone who lived under her father’s roof. It’s no wonder it became an important part of her work. Clients were innocent until proven guilty.

Despite her response to Kurt’s cheating, she had given her husband the benefit of the doubt too. After she managed to put some of the pain behind her, she was ready to try and figure out what they could salvage of their marriage, but she never felt like he was listening. He was always jumping ahead. Wanting to date, wanting her to go away with him, wanting to move in together. He was making overtures, showing he wanted her back, but it concerned her that his actions didn’t seem to come with a lot of forethought. 

Diane always prided herself on not being soft, but he was the one person, the one thing who made her weak. It became too emotionally grueling to turn him down again and again, to listen to his hopeful thoughts about the future and not feel any of the same optimism. She never doubted his love for her. Never doubted Kurt’s regret at his decision, but she did doubt his willingness to work together, to work through it. She thought about pulling the trigger, getting together the paperwork, and asking for a divorce. She was so close so often, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not until she was forced to because of her finances. And even now, knowing things are legally settled between them isn’t much of a comfort. She needs to be emotionally freed from him and she doesn’t know if that will ever be possible.


	6. Chapter 6

*

A soft tapping wakes her. Justice’s nails on the wood floor, she thinks, until she remembers Justice passed away three years ago. Her heart starts beating faster, but her brain is still rousing itself from sleep. Sitting up in bed, she listens, there’s the tapping again. Wrapping her robe around her, she opens her bedroom door, careful not to turn on any lights and pauses in the upstairs hallway when she hears it again. This time it sounds more like knocking. Burglars don’t knock. The knocking stops again, then resumes. A familiar voice calls, “Diane.” 

Hearing him makes her even more convinced she’s still dreaming. Even so, she descends the stairs and opens the front door to see him standing there. A light rain is falling and the shoulders of his jacket are soaked. “What are you-” 

“Diane,” he says again, his voice slurring a little at the end. 

She squints at him and defensively crosses her arms. “Are you drunk?” He drinks rarely and mostly with her. Even the night they signed their divorce papers, Diane was the one who had consumed multiple glasses of scotch.

“Are you going to lemme in?” Despite his state, there’s a challenge in his voice and she understands then. He’s as mad as she is. They’re both standing in the rain and as much as she wishes she could harden her heart against him, she can at least provide a place to crash for the night. 

“Come on.” She gestures him inside, but reaches out to catch his arm when he slips on the top step, unsteady on his feet because of the rain or the alcohol or both, she isn’t sure. 

Guiding him towards the couch, she tells him to sit, before retrieving a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water. When she returns, he’s leaning against the arm of the couch, his chin propped in his hand, his eyes closed. There are dark patches on the shoulders of his shirt from the rain. “Hey,” she whispers. He peeks an eye open and a lazy smile crosses his face. “Are you cold?” 

“Cold?” Confusion clouds his face. “Why would I be cold? 

“Because it was raining out. Your shirt…” She wants to ask what happened, where he’s been that night, but doesn’t know if it’s her business anymore. “Just wait here.” 

At the back of her closet, past the crinkly dry cleaner bags which hold her formal dresses, she finds it, a box marked K, and inside, a small stack of his clothes. She fingers the soft, worn fabric of the flannel at the top of the pile. Not able to bring herself to look past this shirt, it’s the one she plucks off the pile and carries downstairs, but it doesn’t stop her brain from continuing down this path anyway, vaguely recalling other items. A University of Chicago Law t-shirt she had given him as a joke, a pair of his gloves she had found, a book he left behind at her place. 

Kurt is still slumped against the arm of the couch, head in hand, eyes closed again. This time she nudges his leg with her foot. “Dry clothes.” He slowly opens his eyes, eyelids fluttering, but doesn’t move, his gaze not leaving her face. She knows what he’s doing. She lets out an irritated sigh. “Stand up,” she demands. He follows orders, but rises slowly. Setting the flannel on the coffee table behind her, she steps towards him, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. Careful not to meet his gaze, she remains intent on this simple task, but being so close to him, his musk, the heat emanating from his body is distracting and her fingers keep fumbling. She’s relieved he’s wearing an undershirt. When she’s finished, she reaches up to the push the wet fabric off his shoulders, her fingertips brushing lightly across his warm skin, the jolt of awareness. Kurt’s hand grasps her elbow, holding her in place, hands on his shoulders, and before she can object, he’s murmuring something she can barely hear. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats it over and over, turning it into a low hum, a rhythm. 

“Kurt,  _ Kurt _ .” Diane slides her hand down from his shoulder to his chest, trying to get him to listen. “I know.” His hand is at the small of her back now, a firm pressure, and as she leans into him, the cool silk of her robe against his bare skin makes him shiver. Her hand threads through the hair at the nape of his neck as she kisses him. He tastes like beer, whiskey, and salt. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again when they pause. 

“You’re drunk.” 

He stills under her, his eyes intent. “I’m serious.” 

“I know.” She resists pointing out how they used to have fun. They made each other laugh. What happened to all of that? “Are you okay sleeping on the couch tonight?”

Kurt blinks, the question catching him off guard. “Am I what? Diane, come on.” He reaches for the belt on her robe, but she steps back out of his grasp, shaking her head at him. Kurt lets out a frustrated sigh, but relents, sitting back down on the sofa. Diane pulls a throw off one of the chairs and passes it to him. 

“Drink lots of water,” she advises. “Good night.” She’s already halfway up the stairs when Kurt says something, it sounds like, “I miss you.” 

*

When she wakes the next morning, she lies in bed for a long moment, trying to figure out if the night before actually happened or if it was a fever dream. When she finally rises, she goes about her normal routine, even though she desperately, eagerly wants to know if Kurt is still on her couch. She fixes her hair, puts on makeup, gets dressed, and then finally, slips downstairs in her stockinged feet. Kurt’s always been an early riser, so she’s surprised when she hears the heavy, steady rhythm of his breathing. He’s curled onto his side, one of his feet sticking out from the blankets, his thick head of hair inevitably mussed from the pillows. She’s holding her breath, searching his face for something. A sign, an assurance? A promise?

She goes into the kitchen to make coffee and to see if she can salvage anything from her fridge for breakfast. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him moving around, until he finally sits up, his back to her. Almost immediately, he leans forward and she knows he’s feeling the effects of his drinking. As she waits for the coffee to percolate, she brings him a glass of water. “Good morning,” she says quietly. “Coffee will be ready in a minute.” He nods and she’s not sure if he’s not saying anything because of his hangover or because he’s embarrassed about what he said the night before. 

Once he has a sip of coffee, he starts acting like a normal person again. “Thanks.” He breathes, his voice between a whisper and a croak. “Not just for this,” he raises his cup. “But for last night. I’m not sure why I...anyway, I’m sorry. And thanks.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not really okay, but she’s glad he came here and not wherever the hell else. She wants to add how concerned about his drinking she was, but he’s probably beating himself up about that on his own. “What happened last night?” Diane tries instead, hoping her tone is gentle and not accusatory. “I mean, before here.”

Kurt hesitates slightly. “I need you to listen and not get upset. I really need you to give me a chance to explain before you-” 

Last night, she thought his apologies were about their argument at his house, about everything they had done to each other, but now she’s wondering out if they’re about something else entirely.  _ Someone _ else entirely. "Just tell me." Not that she has any claim to him now. They’re divorced.

“I had a meeting with Adrian. He offered me a job.” Diane is torn between being angry at Adrian for not telling her and being heartsick over the man sitting on her couch. 

“Oh. Congratulations.” Her tone is flat and her smile forced. 

“Diane, I’m not taking it.” 

She blinks rapidly, looking at him in surprise. He should be the one having trouble keeping up, but Diane’s not sure the early hour is doing her brain any favors. “You aren’t? But you said, I thought--if you need more business, you should.” 

“I wouldn’t do that. Not when things between us are…” Kurt’s hand gestures out to his side, clearly saying,  _ whatever it is they are _ .

“I don’t want things to be this way.” It comes out all in one breath. She lets out a sigh. It’s true. As much as she’s tried to put him out of her mind, she keeps wondering what it would be like to cross paths with him in two years, five, ten. Finding herself genuinely happy to see him doing so well, but their meeting being undercut by a sad, indescribable tone of nostalgia. Thinking she had already grieved him, but realizing she never really accepted what happened. He puts down his coffee cup, dark eyes meeting hers, hesitant but hopeful. “I don’t know what to do, but I know I don’t want them to be this way.” Diane’s used to having answers, finding solutions for a problem, but she realizes she’s not always going to have all the answers for them. 

“Okay,” he says softly, finally sitting, rubbing a hand over his face, whether in confusion or relief, she isn’t sure. “I don’t know what to do either, but I want to figure it out. Both of us.” Tears prick the corners of her eyes and she nods, grateful he is with her. 

“After Adrian offered me the job, I went to bar to try and figure things out.” Kurt clears his throat and she can tell whatever he’s remembering, whatever he was feeling then, is hard to talk about now. “I didn’t know why I was having such a hard time making a decision. I thought about what you would say when I told you and I realized…” He stops, rubbing a hand over his face, and Diane can see his chin quiver. 

She gets up from the chair and goes to sit next to him on the couch. “Hey.” She touches his shoulder softly.    


He lets his hand fall from his face, finally, and she can see the tears at the corners of his eyes. Kurt has always been clear about his feelings for her and while his gruff cowboy exterior often softened in her presence, she had never seen him this broken down, this raw. “I hurt you. Again. I thought I’d lost you all over again, and I didn’t want to make any more decisions if they didn’t involve you.” She lifts a hand to his cheek and he leans into her touch. Holding his face in her hands, her thumbs trace along his beard, and she reaches up to wipe his tears away gently. 

“I’m sorry, too,” she says, her voice choked with emotion. “Sorry if I made you feel like you didn’t mean anything to me, because you do. Of course you do. These past few months, they were…” Diane can’t say she regrets them exactly. “It was one thing when we started, but then turned into something else.” 

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “It did.” 

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” He replies, but they settle together on the couch, Diane leaning against him, his arm around her. They both have work and responsibilities and those other demands aren’t going to stop simply because they need time to work on their relationship. 

“I have to go to work,” she sighs into his neck. “But you should stay, if you want. Take a shower.” 

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying I stink?” 

“I plead the Fifth.” She tells him, rising, but he pulls her back down onto his lap. He kisses her, musk and all, Diane laughing against his mouth.

“I love you.” It sounds so simple, so easy, coming out of his mouth. He pauses, waiting, hoping for her to stay it back, but when his gaze connects with hers, everything is there in her eyes. She doesn’t need to say it. He can see it. All of the happiness, the hurt, the confusion they’ve been through. And underneath all of it, something shines through. The first time she looked at him this way, it was the tiniest moment, but he remembers. In his kitchen, her eyes cutting to him, looking at him just like this, but only for a moment. She loved him. Loves him. Still. 

Diane gives him a little nod and a watery smile. “I’ll see you later.”  


	7. Epilogue

**Three Months Later**

They start seeing each other almost every day. She drives to his place a couple nights a week and the other two or three, Kurt is at hers. Diane is happy to come home to him, to talk, to forgive each other. She thought she knew what a marriage was, before, but the way they are working together now, communicating, it already feels different. Better. But she knows they aren’t married anymore. After everything, she’s not sure she needs it. She simply wants to be with him.

She’s let him back into her life, in a way she never had before. Lets herself be vulnerable, reminds herself to talk rather than running away. To trust that he’s hers, she doesn’t need a vow for that. (He’s told her. Whispered words in the dark, said them steadily in the light of day, the way his eyes reflect everything she needs to know.) 

But a tiny part of her feels guilty for how much time she spends at work and wonders if he wouldn’t be happier working on a case or in his lab. She’s nudged him gently about figuring out what he wants to do. “Maybe I want to be retired,” he tells her the next time she brings it up, the two of them at her dining room table after a meal together. Still winding down from work, Diane shares her second glass of wine with him, propping her feet up on a nearby chair until he takes them into his lap, his warm hands softly massaging her arches.    


She chokes back a scoff. “You said yourself you were bored, but if you’ve changed your mind, that’s fine.”

“I’m perfectly content to spend most of my day reading and then making dinner for you.” He presses his fingers against a tight spot in her foot and for a moment, she loses the ability to speak. 

“Kurt.” It’s very sweet, him wanting to be the supportive spouse, but the idea makes her uneasy. 

“What? Are you looking for an argument?”

“It’s my natural state,” she teases, but knows from the look on his face she should let it go. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“But...” he prompts, knowing she has one.      


“I feel guilty. I don’t like the idea of you sitting around all day waiting for me to get home. And I love that you make me dinner, but you don’t  _ have _ to. I don’t expect it. I love the idea of having a house husband, but I know you. I don’t want you to regret it.” 

“A house husband?” he chuckles. 

“Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I will.” He keeps smirking at her. 

“What?” Diane asks, amused.

“You think I’m a kept man.” He finishes his foot massage, dropping her feet back into his lap, his hand resting on top of them, his fingers tracing shapes around her ankle. 

She rolls her eyes, but a smirk creeps across her face. “Hardly. Your wife doesn’t have any assets to speak of.” The word slips out and she covers her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Kurt hadn’t even flinched when she said it and his tone now is equally calm. “Diane, it’s fine. Come here.” She does as she says, slipping into his lap. He strokes his hand up and down her back. “I’m happy we’re here now.” Nodding, she cups his cheek in her hand and kisses him gratefully. 

*

They’d talked about going away for the long weekend, but of course she ended up on a case which needed tending, so they delayed their plans. Instead, Diane drives out to Kurt’s for the weekend, secretly glad it’s the place she gets to celebrate the last weekend of summer. The property is particularly beautiful in the summer months with its verdant grass and fields. Wildflowers crop up and Diane has taken to picking a few on their long walks together, before coming back to have iced tea out on the patio, and later, after dinner, returning with a bottle of wine to watch the sky streaked with pink, purple, and indigo. Despite the heat of the afternoon, when the sun goes down, there’s a chill in the air and inevitably, they seek another way to keep warm.      


Feeling relaxed from the wine, she draws her hand slowly along his forearm, feeling the muscle and sinew underneath her fingers. He draws closer, breath warm on her cheek before his mouth meets hers, kissing her softly, but with the tiniest bit of urgency. She’s surprised when he stops abruptly. “Let’s go inside,” he tells her. Normally his voice betrays his longing, but Diane doesn’t hear any of that now. 

“Are you okay?” she asks carefully, already picking up their glasses to take inside. 

“Yep.” His tone gives nothing away and she finds herself staring at his back as they walk into the house. She sets the glasses by the sink and then turns to look at him. “Come here.” He gestures her towards him. She closes the gap between them and he takes her hand in his, leading her into the living room to sit down on the couch. 

His gaze seems to be focused on their hands, which are intertwined and now resting on his leg, before he looks up, his serious brown eyes meeting hers. “I got a job at Northwestern.”

Diane breathes a sigh of relief. “Kurt! That’s wonderful.” 

“It’s part-time,” he continues. “So my schedule will be more flexible, which is good.” He gestures towards them. “For us.”

“And this is what you want?” she asks, but Diane can see a familiar look in his eyes. It’s the same one he used to have while conducting experiments in his lab. She’d seen it first hand, both as a client and a wife. He was happy, probably already making lesson plans in his head. 

“It is, yes.” 

“Good.” She beams at him, leaning in for a kiss, but his words stop her. 

“There’s one other thing.”

Diane draws back, her eyes searching his. The sparkle in his eye is still there, but there’s something else, something deeper. “What’s that?”

He pauses. “I was thinking about moving closer to campus.”

“You’re joking.” She expects him to break into a grin at any moment, laugh at her, but instead he just looks back at her, stoic as always. “You’re  _ not _ joking.” It comes out in a whisper. Evanston is a good twenty minutes closer to her apartment and since she’s found his place such a nice getaway from the city recently, they could always spend weekends here. 

“The most important thing to me is for this,  _ us _ , to work. I want to get back to where we were before.” Kurt is still holding her hand and brushes his thumb across her ring finger. “Would you be willing to do that with me?” 

Unable to breathe for a long moment, she nods at him. “Yes,” she manages to say, her voice choked with emotion. “Of course, yes.” Diane squeezes his hand and then throws her arms around his shoulders. “I can help you look for a place.” 

She can sense his smile then, well before his chuckle in her ear. “Mmm, maybe. Doesn’t seem like the best idea when I’m just getting back into your good graces.” 

Diane pulls back to look at him. “Who said they were all good?” Her fingers dance along the buttons of his shirt. “Nothing wrong with being in a few bad ones, too,” she says, her mouth tilting up into an all-knowing smirk. Kurt tries to suppress his smile. 

“Is that right? Why don’t you show me?” His voice dips low. 

Her hand is warm against his chest, her blue eyes flicking up to his. “I love you.” The words are hushed, reverent, wanting.

His response is gentle, but teasing. “I know.”   

_ fin _


End file.
